


From the Pages

by xpiester333x



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpiester333x/pseuds/xpiester333x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stroked the paper with gentle fingers as if it were pale flesh, and she swore she could almost feel a familiar warmth from the pages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Pages

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt "write a piece about someone made of paper." In which I didn't follow the prompt exactly but had fun with the idea of lovers and paper anyway. I used the name of my own WoL once so I hope if you're looking for some immersion that doesn't ruin it too much. Female WoL/Haurchefant.

Soft, gentle fingers dragged lightly down his arm, drawing out a shiver that caused the flesh on his arms to break out with little bumps. He smiled at her; a lopsided, awkward grin that betrayed his embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his ice blue eyes averting from hers, his cheeks flushing with a light blush.

“For what?” she asked. She dipped her head, attempting to meet his eyes again. She was fascinated by him, by his reactions to her. She found them to be appealing and enticing, something she certainly couldn’t get enough of.

His eyes did meet hers again, just for a moment, before blinking away again.

“You know, I find you to be…” he trailed off, the words dying on his tongue before they could fall, but they were more than enough to alight her curiosity.

“Find me to be what?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter, eyes bright and attentive and trained on him.

It was a long moment before he responded. She thought he might not, expected him to change the subject to their battle plans for tomorrow or comment on the weather. He often diverted the subject to something safe when he was feeling uncertain of himself, it was one of those quirks she had learned about him in the time that she had known him.

But he did not change the subject, at least not like she expected. He surprised her with a gentle caress of fingers against her cheek. The touch was so gentle she might have imagined it, had she not seen him move as he did so. His eyes searched hers, no longer embarrassed to meet them, and in fact the intensity of his stare made her feel small and weak in the knees. The heat she felt creeping over her skin had nothing to do with the warmth of the fire’s glow.

She bit her lip, now both eager and anxious to hear what he might say. She could feel her heart racing in his chest. She wondered if his was doing the same. He was close enough to find out, and she longed to reach her hand out and place it against his chest, just to see. But something stopped her, some innate instinct told her not to break the moment they were in.

“I could write a letter and fill pages to describe how I find you,” he finally said, his voice a cracked whisper.

There was a warmth in his eyes that made her shiver this time, and his smile was genuine and true.

“Someday I hope to show you.”

 

* * *

 

“Marina.”

She blinked, Aymeric’s voice prying her from her memories. She looked up at him, wide eyes with surprise and feeling disoriented and embarrassed.

“Yes?” she asked politely, her voice cracking just slightly, but enough to betray her emotion. She cleared her throat and looked at him expectantly as if nothing were amiss.

“What’s that you’re reading?” he asked, curious. If he found her behavior to be strange, he didn’t let on.

Marina looked down to the folded pages in her hands. Worn with time and travel, they had certainly seen better days. She stroked the paper with gentle fingers as if it were pale flesh, and she swore she could almost feel a familiar warmth from the pages.

“Just something from a memory,” she lamented sadly. Her eyes did not meet his, but seemed to be watching a scene he had no part of.  

Aymeric’s brows furrowed in confusion and he glanced at the pages in her hands again. Worn so badly, the words on them were hardly visible anymore, and he was only able to make out the words “ _Everything I find you to be…”_ scrawled in a handwriting that was not entirely unfamiliar, though he could not match it in his memory before she hastily stuffed the pages back into her satchel and stood.

“My apologies,” she said to him, her voice clearer and more confident now, more like he was used to hearing it. “You are expecting my report?”

The questions he had for her still hung on the tip of his tongue, but he did not have the nerve to ask her. Instead he cleared his throat and let the matter rest.

“Yes, if you would.” He gestured for her to enter into his office.

“Of course,” she nodded, leading the way with a smile.


End file.
